


Hold Me Like You'll Never Let Me Go

by CarlllGallaghrrr



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon Related, Mother's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:50:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3996043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarlllGallaghrrr/pseuds/CarlllGallaghrrr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Isn’t there someone you can write a card for? A grandmother or an aunt, perhaps?”<br/>Carl wants to laugh. He doesn’t know if he even has any aunts, aside from the wives of Frank’s brothers. And his grandmother’s in prison.<br/>Then Carl gets an idea. “Can I make one for a sister?”<br/>His teacher looks confused. “I don’t see why not,” she says.<br/>Carl grins and picks up the marker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Like You'll Never Let Me Go

**Author's Note:**

> I kept meaning to write this, and even though Mother's Day passed already, here it is.
> 
> Title is from "Leaving On A Jet Plane" by John Denver.

Carl loves rain. He’s watching it fall; the drops hit the window and roll slowly down the glass. He watches in fascination as two drops race each other, and he tries to figure out which will win. The sound of the rain drops slamming into the roof is a soothing white-noise, and he feels as if he could fall asleep.

He jerks to attention when he’s hears his teacher say, “Mother.” All at once, his content mood disappears, and he scowls.

It hasn’t been long since Monica left. In fact, it’s only been a few weeks. It still hurts; he misses being able to crawl into bed with her. He misses dancing with her around the living room. He misses running around outside with her and the way her face lit up when he showed her something he did in school.

But he doesn’t miss the days when she wouldn’t get out of bed. He doesn’t miss the nights where he would try to crawl into bed with her, but she would shove him away. He doesn’t miss the mornings when he would follow Lip into her room when Lip would bring her coffee, doesn’t miss the way Lip would set the coffee down gently and usher him out of the room before shutting the door. Doesn’t miss the nights when he could hear Fiona crying.

Carl sighs and turns away from the window, focusing on his teacher. Immediately, he wishes he were still watching the rain.

“Since it’s Mother’s Day on Sunday, I figured it would be nice if we all made cards!” the teacher says cheerfully, and Carl feels like throwing up. It’s too soon; he doesn’t want to think about Monica, and he definitely doesn’t want to make a fucking _Mother’s Day card._

The teacher passes out sheets of brightly colored paper and markers, smiling and telling all of the students how _happy_ their moms will be when they give them the cards. Most of the kids are smiling and coloring on the paper, but Carl sees a few kids staring at their markers with frowns.

Carl sits with his arms crossed, refusing to touch the markers. His teacher stops next to his table.

“Aren’t you going to make a card, Carl?” she asks sweetly, and Carl feels the urge to punch her in the face.

“No,” Carl says defiantly, glaring at her.

“Why not?” the teacher asks, and she genuinely seems confused. “I’m sure your mom would love to see that you made her something!”

Carl grinds his teeth together. “I don’t have a mom,” Carl bites out, and as soon as he says it, he realizes it’s true. Monica left. She isn’t his mother anymore.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Carl,” the teacher says sympathetically. She’s blessedly silent for a minute, and then she says, “But isn’t there someone you can write a card for? A grandmother or an aunt, perhaps?”

Carl wants to laugh. He doesn’t know if he even has any aunts, aside from the wives of Frank’s brothers. And his grandmother’s in prison.

Then Carl gets an idea. “Can I make one for a sister?”

His teacher looks confused. “I don’t see why not,” she says.

Carl grins and picks up the marker.

***

On Sunday, Carl wakes up early and finds Fiona in the kitchen. She smiles at him when she sees him, and beckons him over.

“What are you doing up so early?” Fiona asks with a laugh, and Carl shrugs and hands her the card.

“Our teacher made us make cards for Mother’s Day,” he explains, “and I figured you deserve one much more than Monica.”

Fiona takes it and reads it, and as her eyes travel down the page her smile grows wider. When she looks up, it looks like she has tears in her eyes, but before Carl can get a better look, she’s wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug.

Carl relaxes in Fiona’s arms and buries his face into her shoulder. He hears her sniffle; she presses a kiss to Carl’s hair, and then rests her cheek on top of his head. She squeezes her skinny arms tighter around Carl.

_Yeah_ , Carl thinks, _she definitely deserves it_.

She holds him for a long time.

***

The house is too quiet. Much too quiet. Lip is at college, and Ian is at work (or so Fiona hopes). The sounds of their playful arguments and obnoxious laughter don’t ring throughout the house. Debbie is out with Derek, probably at the gym, and Carl’s in juvie. Liam is with Lip, and Fiona is all alone.

Fiona wraps her hands around her coffee mug, takes a sip. The liquid is boiling hot, and it burns her throat going down. She coughs, and the sounds echoes.

Setting her coffee cup down, Fiona stands up from the kitchen table. She needs to do _something_ ; she can’t just sit there, she has to work. She hasn’t stopped moving since Monica ran out on them, and it feels as if she’s suddenly slammed on the brakes.

She decides to clean up her room. Standing on the threshold, she realizes just how much shit has piled up over the years; there’s clothes and makeup and other junk scattered everywhere, and papers are stacked in random spots around the room. Fiona picks a sweater up off the floor and pulls it on, tucking her hair behind her ears as she gets to work.

 

Once she finishes up the floor, she moves to the drawers of the nightstand. Fiona had shoved tons of crap in there, and she wonders what she’ll find.

She opens the top drawer and empties it. A pile of papers plops onto the floor, and Fiona sighs as she settles in to go through them. They all look like old bills and report cards and drawings. Fiona tosses the bills to one side, intending to throw them out later, and she neatly stacks the report cards and artwork next to her.

She’s halfway through the pile when she comes across a folded piece of red paper. She opens it, frowning.

_Fiona,_

_My stupid teacher made us write Mother’s Day cards. I didn’t want to, because I don’t have a mother anymore._

Fiona squeezes her eyes shut, and then opens them a few seconds later to keep reading.

_But then I realized I can write a card for you. You haven’t had to take care of us on your own for long, but you’ve always been more of a mother to me than Monica ever was. I’m sorry I get into trouble so much. I’ll try harder. I promise._

_I love you,_

_Carl_

Fiona can’t help it. The tears come fast, and she doesn’t even bother trying to wipe them away. She remembers the day Carl gave her this, remembers holding him in the kitchen.

God, how she wishes she could hold him now.

Fiona clutches the card to her and pulls her knees up to her chest. The sounds of her sobs echo through the empty rooms.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi at carlllgallaghrrr.tumblr.com


End file.
